


Killjoys, Extreme Runners

by vamprav



Series: Mockingbird [4]
Category: Bandom, Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Podfic Welcome, mentions of cannibalism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-15 08:14:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14786769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vamprav/pseuds/vamprav
Summary: Or, These Killjoys are Fucking Insane





	1. Fraidy Joys

**Author's Note:**

> I have no knowledge of the Killjoy Universe outside of the music videos and fanfic.  
> Also, this is were the fuckery occurs, after this fic is the one where they go up against BLI and shit gets real. So once I've finished this it might take a bit for me to sort out what is going on in BLI because none of my babies are dying, thank you very much.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fun Ghoul finds the one thing that Kill Joys are afraid of.

The bike that Fun Ghoul finally settle on after two whole days walking around the Trading Post and haggling like his life depended on it wasn’t all that impressive.The engine was small, the paint was chipped, and one of the tires had gone flat at least a decade ago. However it had a solid frame and the gas tank was big enough that it didn’t make Fun Ghoul internally wince every time he saw it.

It got two sets of raised eyebrows when  he brought it back but Fun Ghoul didn’t particularly care. If he was going to fix up a bike he was going to do it the right way, from scratch. Or, rather, as close to scratch as he could manage.

“That is never going to be as fast as your old bike,” Kobra deadpanned.

“No, it’ll be faster,” Fun Ghoul told him.

Kobra blinked at him. It was a slow deliberate blink that seemed to be asking for Fun Ghoul to cut the bullshit. Kobra’s facial expressions were very expensive even if the only difference from one to the next was a millimeter or two.

“If you say so,” Kobra siad, the doubt in his voice blatantly clear.

“I believe you, Fun Ghoul,” Party said with a smile.

The red head had been obnoxiously cheerful and supportive since he retrieved Fun Ghoul from his suicidal walk. The dark haired man should have found it annoying or derogatory or a number of other emotions but instead it made him… happy. It had been so long since Fun Ghoul had had someone at his back fighting for him, with him that he’d forgotten how it felt. The feeling was warm and welcoming and nice.

“How?” Jet Star asked.

Fun ghoul grinned at him through bared teeth, “Trade secret.”

The “Trade Secret” started with Fun Ghoul stripping the bike down to the frame and throwing everything out besides the gas tank.

“Why didn’t you buy something else if you were just going to strip it?” Kobra asked.

“It’s got a good frame and it’s hard to find a tank this size anymore,” Fun Ghoul said, “all the other bikes had tanks that were too small or had rotten frames.”

“Why does the size of the tank matter?” Jet Star asked, “you can get a bike to go just as fast on a smaller tank.”

“Have you ever run out of fuel with Dracs chasing you? Cause I can tell you you’ll want a bigger tank,” Fun Ghoul said matter of factly.

Kobra snorted in amusement, “And a bigger tank means a bigger explosion.”

“That may have been a consideration,” Fun Ghoul admitted grudgingly, “but it’s more about the Dracs really. I refuse to die as a sitting duck.”

Party Poison suppressed his gleeful squeal. Fun Ghoul wasn’t thinking about killing himself anymore!

Kobra Kid raised an eyebrow. Just because Fun Ghoul didn’t want to die quietly didn’t mean he didn’t want to die. He could be thinking about going out in a blaze of glory in a heroic attempt to save the ones he loved. It was a stupid idea and probably something another idiot he knew he would come up with as an ending to one of his stories.

“But filling it up gets more expensive and it makes you a target,” Jet Star said.

“Not if you know where to go,” Fun Ghoul said.

“Oh and where would you go if you knew where to go?” Kobra Kid asked.

Fun Ghoul smirked as he examined a spark plug he’d pulled from the motorbike’s engine. It was blackened and corroded and completely useless for its intended purpose, but not for the one Ghoul intended it for.

“The outer territories,” Fun Ghoul said.

Everyone froze.

“Excuse me,” Jet Star choked.

“The outer territories,” Party Poison squawked.

“Ah,” Kobra Kid drawled, “that… that’s…”

“What about the Death Riders?” Party Poison asked.

“What about them?” Ghoul asked and looked up at the terrified faces of the killjoys, “Oh, come on, they aren’t that bad.”

“They eat people,” Kobra deadpanned.

“What?” Fun Ghoul asked in confusion. “No, they don’t. Where’d you hear that?’

“Everyone knows that, Fun Ghoul,” Party Poison said, ringing his hands.

“How?”

“What?”

“How does everyone know that Death Riders eat people?” Fun Ghoul asked eyes narrowed.

“Because,” Grace piped up from where she sat on the hood of the car, “they live in the outer territories and wear weird masks and, and no one knows where they get their food from.”

Fun Ghoul looked up at her and his face went soft. It had been so long since he’d met a child, at least four years, maybe more. He’d missed it and he hadn’t even known until now.

“Well, have you ever asked them?” he asked.

“What? Just walk up to them on their grey bikes with their black masks and metal throwing blasters and ask them,” Jet Star yelped.

“Your scared,” Fun Ghoul realized, “you’re not wary of their power, you’re terrified of them because you don’t know anything about them. The fuck! I thought Killjoys were supposed to be brave!”

And that was how the Killjoys wound up at the edge of Zone 4, staring at the downed sign post that marked the entrance of the Outer Territories. They were all there, except for Grace who they’d left with Doctor D. They’d been there for less than five minutes before they hear the rumbling of a motorcycle engine and someone appeared over the rocky red hill in front of them.

Fun Ghoul’s breath caught in his throat for a second when he saw the grey leather outfit. Then he registered that the figure was male, the bike was grey, and he was wearing a gas mask. Even four years later the sight of grey leather still made him stop dead in his tracks.

He grinned, the pain retreating after a few moments. There was a yellow bear plushie strapped to the front of the man’s bike.

“Oh look,” Fun Ghoul said, “it’s the welcome wagon.”

The bike halted a few feet away from the car and the rider pulled a double barrelled gun out from a holster strapped to the back of his bike. All the Killjoys went very still and Party Poison emitting a high pitched noise that made Fun Ghoul cringe.

Fun Ghoul popped open the back door and hopped out. The rider instantly relaxed and lowered his gun. Fun Ghoul shut the car door and strode over to the bike.

“Dark Star,” Fun Ghoul said.

“Fun Ghoul,” Dark Star nodded, his voice was distorted and louder than it should be if it was truly muffled by the mask.

He unclipped a radio from his waist. He pressed the side button and had a brief conversation that Fun Ghoul politely ignore before putting it down.

“Who’s that?” Dark Star asked.

“Killjoys,” Fun Ghoul said.

Dark Star nodded, “Are you alright? It’s been a while since you came out here.”

“It’s only been a month,” Fun Ghoul snorted.

“Exactly, it’s been a month,” the rider said and leaned back a bit, “The Stump got worried.”

“Sorry about that,” Fun Ghoul said and shrugged, “I blew up Cat’s bike.”

“You blew up,” Dark Star started and then paused, “oh, Ghoul-”

Fun Ghoul held up his hand to stop the words. He didn’t want to deal with the sympathy, not right now.

“Look, I just parts and some fuel,” Fun Ghoul said, “I’ll trade for it and then get out of your hair.”

“And what about them?” Dark Star asked and flicked his fingers towards the car, “Are they just your ride or are you Running with them?”

“For now.”

“That’s what they all say,” Dark Star drawled, “alright, leave the car, bring the Killjoys.”

The walk wasn’t all that long, barely ten minutes before they crested a hill and were able to look down into a crater that was at least a mile deep. At the center was a concrete structure in the vague shape of an hourglass. Arranged around it was a town tents and sturdy wooden shacks.

People of all shapes and sizes milled around the buildings. They were all wearing grey leather or cotton and gas masks, even the kids. Though the masks made far more sense now that they could see the low ly8ing yellow fog painting the ground below.

“What is it?” Party Poison breathed.

“We don’t quite know what it is,” Dark Star said, “it’s not toxic but if you breath it in for too long you end up changed.”

“That’s what the masks are for,” Kobra muttered, “Do we need them?”

“We won’t be here long enough,” Fun Ghoul said, “Let’s go.”


	2. The Three That Got Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fun Ghoul is confronted by an old friend.

“They don’t know,” a voice says from behind Fun Ghoul.

The voice is undistorted, not a surprise since they’re inside, away from the gas. The Death Riders didn’t wear the masks inside the concrete structure.

The brunette didn’t jump, he’d known that the owner of the voice had been there for a while. If it had been anyone else standing there he’d have told them to go away by now. In less friendly terms to boot but Stump was different, had always been different.

Stump  _ knew _ . In fact Stump knew both of his secrets instead of just the one.

“No,” Fun Ghoul said.

Stump sighed in a tone that implied long suffering patience wearing beyond thin. It probably was, Fun Ghoul was self aware enough to admit he was difficult.

“Iero,” Stump said and pinched his nose.

“Don’t. Call me that,” Fun Ghoul growled and tossed an engine part towards a pile by his right foot, the junk pile. It was bigger than the pile on his left by a large margin.

“Fine, Ghoul then,” Stump said, “you know if you don’t tell them they’ll just find out later.”

“I’m not Running with them, Stump.”

“You say that now,” Stump said, “but if you recall I said the same thing. So did Ford. So did Wentz.”

“And you’re Death Riders, it’s different,” Fun Ghoul said with slight melancholy.

“How? We’re all kin, we were all alone, and now we aren’t,” Stump said calmly.

“None of you are Mocking Children, none of you are alone,” he said and very calmly backed away from the engine parts, “Did you know that most Runners think Death Riders eat people? And the Killjoys still came, others will probably come later. What happened when Desert Cat died?”

“Fun Ghoul,” Stump whispered.

“I know, I know,” Ghoul said and bent down to fold up the cloth he’d put down to collect the parts he needed, “Are you still refusing to take a Name?”

“I still can’t find one that fits,” Stump said.

“I’d hurry up with it,” Ghoul said, “Dark Star’s already calling you The Stump, you might end up getting stuck with that if you’re not careful.”

“Dark Star isn’t allowed to Name anyone, or point fingers,” Stump said and rolled his eyes, “his is ridiculous.”

“It sounds cool.”

“It’s melodramatic and over the top.”

“So it fits.”

Stump opened his mouth, stopped, and then closed it. He frowned, puzzlement spreading across his face.

“That’s the important bit,” Fun Ghoul said, “the Name fits the person, it doesn’t matter how it fits or how off it sounds to anyone else.”

“Then, what would you Name me?” Stump asked.

Fun Ghoul considered it for a minute. Stump was young, younger than Ghoul but he’d come from Bat City. Under his own power too, not plucked out by a Runner or chosen by Mocking Bird. He was also a descendant of the Stump line, one of the pillars of BL/ind alongside eight other families that included the Ieros, the Wentzes, and the Uries.

“Phoenix Ash,” Fun Ghoul finally settled on.

Stump nodded, “Huh, that fits.”

“You gonna keep it?”

“I think so, I’ll see what Wentz thinks first.”

“I thought Dark Star wasn’t allowed to judge.”

“Dark Star isn’t allowed to make fun of it but he is very good at recovering when a name’s stupid.”

“And you want in his pants,” Fun Ghoul said with a cocksure grin.

“Ew,” Stump said, nose wrinkling up in disgust, “no, I don’t.”

Fun Ghoul gave him a look. It was a skeptical look, a look that screamed many things, prince among them “Buulshit. Bullshi _ it _ . Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.”

“Besides, don’t think I didn’t see you making eyes at that red haired menace you brought with you.”

“I am not making eyes at Party Poison!” Fun Ghoul squawked in outrage.

“You are!” A new voice said and Fun ghoul turned to see Dark Star weaving his way through the shelves that made up the Death Rider’s warehouse. His brown eyes were sparkling in glee, “It’s amazing, you actually have a heart under all that angst!”

“Oh fuck off!” Fun Ghoul yelled.


	3. Emotions are a Bitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting bitch slapped by your emotions is never fun.

Halfway through building his engine from the ground up Fun ghoul had to admit aht, yes he was making eyes at Party Poison. The fact made him want to scream, he didn’t want to lust after the red head. He’d promised himself that he wouldn’t get attached and lust was a doorway straight to attachment.

He couldn’t really blame himself though. Party Poison was dangerous and Fun Ghoul had always liked danger. He was bold and kind, both qualities Fun Ghoul admired but almost never saw. He had an explosive energy about him that drew Ghoul in. He was gorgeous with his red hair and blue jacket. But the most damning part of the whole affair was that Party Poison made Fun Ghoul feel like he was home, like he was loved.

In short Party Poison was the closest thing to a Mocking Child that Fun Ghoul had ever seen. But he wasn’t one, which was confusing as all hell until Fun Ghoul remembered one key factor.

Party Poison had been part of the Exodus. He’d marched out of Bat City when he was barely twelve years old with his brother clutching his hand like a lifeline. Then he’d become a Killjoy and by the time he had reached seventeen he had a crew of his own.

Eleven years in the Zones and five as a crew leader. That was impressive enough that his crew regularly got people trying to join. Party turned most of them away, or rather Kobra did before Party even knew about them.

The few who did pass Kobra’s initial stare down ran screaming after the first mission. Fun Ghoul hadn’t really understood why until Party Poison invited him on a two person run.

Kobra had approached him before they’d left and done that weird looming threat thing that Fun Ghoul could not for the life of him figure out how to do. Fun Ghoul had just stared up at him with the blandest expression he could manage past terror.

“Yees?” he drawled.

“My brother had better come back in one piece,” the taller man had said and then walked away.

The mission, predictably, had gone to hell about half a minute in to the first sentence. The traders they had gone to meet weren’t actually traders, fantastic. They were bounty hunters who wanted to bring Party Poison and his entire crew in for a reward, even better. Party Poison and Fun Ghoul were handcuffed and put on their knees before the leader, typical. About halfway through his megalomaniacle speech the asshole started petting Party’s hair and stroking his face, which was so not okay. And then the Dracs showed up, OH COME ON!

They’d gotten out by the skin of their teeth. It was pure luck that the gang hadn’t taken their blasters and good forward thinking that Fun Ghoul had learned how to get out of cuffs without picks. After they’d taken out the Dracs and tied up the remaining bounty hunters they’d looked over at one another from across the room and started laughing hysterically.

It had been fun, the long walk back to where they’d left the car wearing someone else’s boots was not. The bounty hunters had taken the boots but not the blasters. Fun Ghoul wasn’t sure if that was stupidity or forethought.

Now, Fun Ghoul was wrist deep in his bike’s engine thinking about how he’d felt when the leader of the bounty hunters had started touching Party. He’d been furious, of course he was furious, some pervert had been putting his hands all over Fun Ghoul’s… on Party. But there was something else there, something that Fun Ghoul hadn’t felt before. Something that that knotted in his gut and burned whenever his mind wandered back to how Party had looked after the fight, soaking in sweat and flushed flushed from exertion.

‘Beautiful,’ Fun Ghoul thought and froze mid motion.

Did he honestly just think that? The thought had come from nowhere, like a bandit attack. Why had he thought that?

It wasn’t like the sun glinting off Party’s hair had made him want to see if it was as soft as it looked. Or that the flush in his cheeks had made Fun Ghoul want to find out if the blush went all the way down, down to his flat stomach and…

Yeah, Fun Ghoul didn’t want to do either of those things.

Fun Ghoul sighed. He couldn’t even convince himself of that. He’d have to work faster on his bike. He couldn’t afford to get attached and the longer he stayed the more he risked it.

‘You already are,’ a tiny voice in the back of his head whispered.

Fun Ghoul squashed it, it sounded vaguely like St- Phoenix Ash and there was no way he was going to admit that the younger man had been right. He’d be downright insufferable.

Besides, Phoenix was only half right. Fun Ghoul might have been making eyes at Party Poison but there was absolutely no way he was going to join his crew. That would probably involve telling Party that he was a Mocking Child and that was never going to happen.

Famous last words.


	4. Why does Fun Ghoul Love this Idiot?... NO WAIT!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of course Party would get kidnapped by cannibals, why would Fun Ghoul assume anything different?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The aforementioned mentions of cannibalism are in this chapter, but don't worry, Fun Ghoul kills them all.

    Fun Ghoul stared down the scope of the long range blaster with a cold, collected air that he wouldn’t have managed to keep if he wasn’t so pissed off. If he wasn’t this angry he’d be panicking but as it was Party and Kobra getting kidnapped by cannibals just served to piss him the hell off.

    They’d gotten snatched right out of the Trading Post, so no one had been the wiser until they’d missed their check in. Fun Ghoul and Jet Star had instantly known something was wrong. Party could have been distracted by a shiny piece of art but Kobra had been with him. Jet Star had had to stay with Grace, or Missile Kid as she had chosen to call herself, so Fun Ghoul had to track them by himself.

    He’d started tracking at high noon, it was now dusk and he was lying prone on top of a sand dune. He was going to be finding sand in his underwear for days after this.

    Luckily the two brothers were still alive or Fun Ghoul would be building a bomb right about now. That might have been easier than what he was about to do.

    Fun Ghoul wasn’t as good of a shot as Last Shot had been but she’d trained him until she deemed his aim decent, what most people would call exceptional. Which was why he was up here with a sniper blaster and no jacket and not sneaking into the camp.

    Fun Ghoul felt a pang of guilt shoot straight through the center of his chest. It had been a while since he’d thought about Last Shot or Hat Trick but their deaths weren’t as prominent as Desert Cat and Star Eye’s had been.

    Fun Ghoul pushed the thought aside and continued to scan the camp below until he found the two Killjoys. They were trussed up with rope next to the main fire pit. Two guards were posted next to them with blaster’s drawn, they would need to go first.

    There were four outer guards, two on the northeast side and two on the southwest. That made six plus the four doing what looked like inventory by the fire made ten. Ten shots to kill all of them, ten cast iron rounds in the magazine.

    Fun Ghoul took a deep breath, let it out, let it stay out, and pulled the trigger twice.

    CRACK! CRACK!

    The sound of the blaster shots ripped across the desert, the metal thrower so much louder than the quiet PHST of a normal blaster. Two bodies hit the dust next to the two Killjoys.

    The cannibals startled.

    Fun Ghoul breathed in.

    CRACK!

    One of the four next to the fire went down, spraying blood and grey matter all over his comrades.

    CRACK!

    The two remaining men by the fire stumbled to their feet.

    Fun Ghoul breathed out.

    CRACK! CRACK!

    The outer guards began to converge on the bloodbath Fun Ghoul had made of the fire pit.

    Fun Ghoul breathed in.

    CRACK! CRACK

    Southwestern guards. They were closer, faster, older, more of a threat.

    CRACK! CRACK!

    Northeastern guards.

    Ten perfect headshots. Last Shot would have been proud,.if she’d been alive to see it.

    Fun Ghoul relaxed minutely and sighed. The smell of gunpowder burned in his nose, his eyes were watering from the smoke, and at least one shell casing had hit him in the face but he didn’t care.

    Fun Ghoul cleared his blaster, slung it over his shoulder, and began to pick his way carefully down from the sand dune. He entered the camp at a slow walk even though everything in him screamed for him to run to Party’s side. He needed to stay calm, if he panicked who knew what would happen. The other two were in no condition to do anything let alone fight if the Dracs showed up.

    He heard the two Killjoys before he saw them.

    “Fuck, fuck fuck fuck! What the fuck, Mikey?! Their heads exploded! What the fuck can do that?! I think I have brains in my hair!” Party was yelling/whining.

    “Party,” Kobra was saying, trying to interrupt the tirade, “Party, Party, Poison… Gerard!”

    Party Poison stopped babbling.

    “Calm down, at least we’re not about to be eaten by cannibals anymore,” Kobra deadpanned.

    Fun Ghoul hesitated, this was an intrusion into their privacy and he knew it. No one used names in front of others. It was intimate, something only shared between family and lovers. The two men may have been siblings but Fun Ghoul was neither to either. Stump used names but that was different, he used surnames and only the surnames of his closest friends or of those runners who hailed from the 9 pillars of BLI.

    So he waited to beat, two. He let enough time pass that it was plausible for him to have not heard them and then rounded the tent he had been hiding behind.

    “Fun Ghoul!” Party yelled happily, “You came to rescue us!”

    “Only you would get kidnapped by cannibals out of the center of the Trading Post,” Fun Ghoul grumbled as he aproached.

    “Well we are Killjoys,” Party Poison said.

    Fun Ghoul rolled his eyes and knelt down beside the red head. He pulled a dagger from his boot with the ease of long practice, there was no way he would be able to get the ropes off otherwise.

    “I have met Killjoys before and they were no where near as accident prone as you are, now hold still.” Fun Ghoul told him and with a few quick jerks the ropes fell away.

    Sudden’y, there was a very happy Runner in Fun Ghoul’s space, clinging to him like grease on skin. The brunette froze, eyes going wide as the older man hugged him.

    “My knight in yellow armor,” Party murmured into Fun Ghoul’s ear.

    A flush started rising in his cheeks, the adrenaline from shooting and the feeling of a warm body pressed close to his was doing things to him. Slowly, Fun Ghoul raised his arms to curl around Party’s back and prayed the other man wouldn’t notice. Part of him wanted him to, wanted him to get closer with all that warmth and fire and passion but no, no that wouldn’t end well for either of them.

    After a few moments Party pulled back, smiling with obvious joy. Fun Ghoul’s twitched in responce, Party Poison was always smiling, it was nice.

    And then those grinning lips were on his and Fun Ghoul moaned. He remembered this from last time, the trill fo a kiss, and that little extra zing that was unique to Party. He’d convinced himself that he’d imagined it, pushed it out of his head until he barely thought of it. All physical contact was the same after all, how could the person who gave it make any difference. But deep down he’d known Party was different. He’d refused to aknowledge that the encounter had happened at all.

    Now, it was even more different, because it wasn’t the drunken fumblings of two Runner’s who’d barely spoken to one another. No, this was Party Poison launching an all out assault on Fun Ghoul’s sanity.

    Fun Ghoul whined.

    “I am right here,” Kobra Kid deadpanned, “and while I am aware you didn’t care, I do not need to see this.”

    Fun Ghoul dropped his knife and scrambled away from Party Poison nearly tripping over the riffle on his back. What had he been thinking? What had Party been thinking? They were out in the middle of nowhere, anyone could see, anyone could attack without a moment’s notice.

    “No, don’t-” Party started to say, eyes widening in fear and dispair.

    “We need to get out of here, there could be more of them,” Fun Ghoul stuttered, turning away from that face, the pain that cut him so deep that it didn’t even bleed anymore.

    He needed to get Party and Kobra back to Jet Star and then leave. His bike was almost done, all he had to do was add a few finishing touches. He could do that in less than an hour, if he took first watch he could be gone before anyone knew.


	5. A name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Fun Ghoul and Kobra have a talk.

The scrape of boots on stone as Kobra Kid sat down next to Fun Ghoul deafening in the near silence of the cave. The brunette paused for a second, waiting for the blonde to comment. When he didn’t Fun Ghoul went back to work.

They sat in the silence for a few minutes, Fun Ghoul worked while Kobra Kid watched him.

“Desert Cat,” Kobra finally said, voice so quiet Fun Ghoul almost didn’t hear him.

Fun Ghoul fumbled the screw he was slotting in and it fell to the ground with a quiet  _ ting _ . His head whipped around to stare at Kobra but the Killjoy just continued to gaze out at the desert like he hadn’t just dropped a bombshell almost as big as Bat City on Fun Ghoul’s head.

“How?” Fun Ghoul asked.

“Party didn’t tell me,” Kobra said, “but he did say that the bike wasn’t yours. Purple bikes, four red birds, it’s been a bit over two years and three months since her crew died and you showed up around the same time. Killjoys don’t ride motorcycles, Mocking Children do.”

Fun Ghoul fumbled around for the screw, it really was the time for him to go if Kobra had put together that much.

“I don’t care that you Ran with her and her crew,” Kobra said, not moving a muscle except for his lips.

Fun Ghoul froze and stared down at the tiny piece of metal in his hand.

“Did you know that Party doesn’t actually know exactly how they died?” Kobra asked in a conversational tone.

Fun Ghoul’s head snapped around.

“He was sick when it started, delirious with fever. And I never told him the whole story, it would have broken his heart.”

“But you do,” Fun Ghoul guessed.

“Yes,” Kobra sighed, “did you know you were still broadcasting when Last Shot died?”

Fun Ghoul winced, because yes, he was, he’d heard it too.

“I felt like I was just as there as any of you were. It’s always good to have your worst nightmare played out in stunning radio detail. I honestly don’t care that you Ran with them, you’re trouble either way. But, against my better judgement I like you and, more importantly, Party likes you.”

Silence again, for longer this time. Fun Ghoul stared at the screw in the palm of his hand. It was the last screw, one quick twist of his wrist and he could be gone like so much dust in the wind. So why couldn’t he seem to move?

“If you go, I’ll let you,” Kobra said, “but if you stay…”

“If I stay?” Fun Ghoul asked, throat clicking as he swallowed around the lump that had formed there.

“Then, I don’t have much to offer,” Kobra admitted, “except what you seem not to want.”

“And what don’t I want?” Fun Ghoul scoffed.

“Friendship,” the blonde said, “security, responsibility. You don’t want to be tied down. You don’t want to feel the pang of loss again so you’ve opted to never have in the first place.”

Fun Ghoul wanted to argue to argue with him but the things he wanted to say all sounded like excuses, even in his own head. Kobra was right in a way, Fun Ghoul was terrified of having another crew but not for the reasons the blonde thought. Or, at least, not only for the reason Kobra thought.

The reason most Runners refused to Run with Mocking Children was because they were Drac magnets. Put a Mocking Child down in the middle of an unoccupied Zone and the Dracs would be there in less than a day. Most Crews were too tame for Fun Ghoul to thrive in and Killjoys already provoked the Dracs enough, they didn’t need Kun Ghoul adding to that.

“I honestly don’t blame you but you seem to be forgetting two very important facts,” Kobra said.

“Oh?”

“The first is that no matter how many people think you’re a god formed of fire and chaos you are still human. You can bleed, you can be crippled, and you can die just like every other human that’s ever lived. And as such you need other people, you need conversation and human contact. You may have been on your own for two years but you were damn close to being feral when you saved Missile Kid. Any longer and you might have gone completely insane.”

“That might be the most I’ve heard you talk at one time since I’ve met you,” Fun Ghoul commented.

Kobra shrugged, proving the other man’s point.

“What’s the second?’ Fun Ghoul asked.

The corner of Kobra’s mouth twitched minutely.

“If you leave, Party will try his damnedest to go with you,” he said, voice ever so vaguely smug.

Fun Ghoul huffed a laugh and then went back to staring at the screw in his hand. If he finished the bike he’d have to leave, if he didn’t he’d have to stay. He should leave, they didn’t need him and when they found out what he was they wouldn’t want him either.

But, if he hadn’t tracked Party and Kobra down today they might have died.

Fun Ghoul took in a deep breathe and held out the screw. Kobra looked at it for a second before he reached out and took it.

“Go to bed, Fun Ghoul,” Kobra said after he pocketed the tiny piece of metal, “your watch ended half an hour ago.”

Fun Ghoul nodded and stood. When he was half way to his bedroll Kobra’s voice stopped him.

“Oh,” he said, “and just in case you were wondering, my name is Mikey, Mikey Way.”


	6. One Kiss to Change it All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fun Ghoul takes the plunge into something he never thought he'd have.

    When Party Poison woke up Fun Ghoul was perched on the hood of the car with a full canteen and a strip of jerky.

    “Hey,” he said calmly.

    “Hey,” Party replied.

    Fun Ghoul looked calmer than he had yesterday, more relaxed. It made his eyes softter around the edges and his muscles loose. It was a good look on him.

    “So, Kobra knows I Ran with Desert Cat,” Fun Ghoul said mildly and took a swig from his canteen.

    Party bolted upright in panic, “Ghoul, I swear I didn’t tall him, I swear. I have no idea how he found out, Ghoul- shit I’m not supposed to be calling you that, I’m so sorry Ghoul - damnit!”

    Party trailed of when he realized Ghoul wa laughing. It was rich, full troated sound that made Party feel warm. He’d never heard Fun Ghoul laugh before. It was sad really, it was a beautifal laugh.

    “He figured it out on his own,” Fun Ghoul said, “in hindsight the bike alone probably clued a few people in. Sit with me?”

    Party got up and kicked the blanket away from where they were tangled around his feet. Fun Ghoul smiled as he practically flew over to perch next to him.

    “I’m sorry about freaking out yesterday,” Fun Ghoul said.

    “Oh no, it’s alright,” Party Poison said, flailing slightly, “I understand if you’re not in-”

    Fun Ghoul set the canteen down and caught one of Party’s hands in his. In one smooth movement he brought the hand to his mouth and kissed the palm. Party’s sentence stuttered to a hault.

    “It’s not that I don’t want,” Fun Ghoul whispered against Party’s skin, “It’s just… it’s been so long since I could have and…”

    “We were in the middle of a camp full of dead bodies?” Party asked, slightly breathless.

    Fun Ghoul chuckled and lowered their joined hands, “That too. But we were in the middle of a perminent camp with no cover. If the Dracs showed up we couldn’t afford to be distracted.”

    “Can I kiss you now?” Party asked.

    Fun Ghoul blushed and bit  lip, “Yes.”

    Party leaned over and carefully rested his lips against the brunette’s. The kiss was soft, tender.

    Fun Ghoul trembled and pulled away.

    “Frank,” he said.

    “What?” Party asked and blinked in confusion.

    “My name is Frank.”

    Party’s face lit up with that blinding smile of his. “Gerard,” he said, “Gerard Way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so the next fic in this series is the culmination of it all and I'm having a bit of trouble with. It I might be a bit before it gets put up because I at least want to be through the part I'm on before I start posting it. Since I'm typing it up from a hard copy I don't want to post the first chapter and then have to go back and do rewrites so that that first chapter will fit with something I did at the ending.


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